Testing Positive for Coronavirus is like being Trapped in Phil Connors . . .

Forever trapped in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania

I woke up at eight-thirty every morning. I’d grab my cell phone and turn the alarm off. I’d check my emails, I’d check my SMS’, I’d check my instant messages. Staring at my phone for a few more minutes hoping something magical might happen, I’d swing my feet to the floor and sit for another moment or two pondering what I was going to do the rest of the day.

On the way to the toilet, I’d close the curtains my wife had opened as she prepared for work; the sunlight was blinding me. Once in the toilet I’d stare at myself in the mirror and ask, “what am I doing with my life?” I just stared at myself as if I was actually going to answer myself.

I’d open a bottle and take two pills out and put them in a small, red, Dixie cup. I’d open another bottle and take four capsules out and put them in the same small, red, Dixie cup. I opened a third bottle and put two pills into the same small, red, Dixie cup with the other six pills. All my bottles of meds were sitting on the mirror just above my bathroom sink in order of size from left to right.

I think I was becoming OCD.

I picked up the cup and threw back eight dry, tasteless, chemical-laced pills and chewed them like I was eating candy. I’d then open the bottle Benadryl and take a swig from the bottle. I’d think to myself, “Man, I’ll never get used to the taste.” I let the tap run for a few seconds and drew a small amount of water to wash the pills down with.

My wife always got onto me about drinking London tap water, but I tried to explain to her several times the water in London is much better than the water in America; the water in America is full of chemicals…especially fluoride.

I’d brush my teeth, take a shower, shave — occasionally I’d shave, sometimes I’d go weeks without shaving— and stare at my self a little longer in the mirror still waiting for an answer. I’d go downstairs to try to eat the breakfast my wife prepared for me but just the smell of food made me too nauseous to eat. She tells me, “You need to eat so you can get better.”

I told her, “I’m too sick to eat, I’ll eat later.”